Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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AT RECESS This title caused me to smile and fall on it for the caption to my Monday-morning drudgery. For the freshman, one like me, lunch-hour is just a long pleasant joke, interspersed with pie. This period is far from dull. A fear- some clamor fills the air, and, to be heard, one must raise a voice sufficient to drown the headlong Niagara. Almost every day some- body drops a fragile milk bottle on the hard, unyielding cement, or slaps his ice cream up- side down on the floor, to be ironed into place by the milling mob. The floor is at best un- certain footing — greasy, slippery, extremely well lubricated. The bubbler is in continuous use. One youth constantly juggles ice cream. Passages from The Lady of the Lake and other masterpieces are retouched with slang and published — orally. But the climax in the way of home-talent amusement came two or three days ago, when some person with little foresight left a bass drum, free and clear of all encumbrances, standing — or does a bass drum sit? — in the midst of the above-men- tioned milling mob. ' Nuff said! Mr. Peter- son constantly walks his beat, his subjects making way before him and melting from view. After lunch a riot ensues near the local chapter of our locker row, till the bell jangles harshly upon the ear — any ear. Oh, yes, we eat our lunches, too. ORISON PRATT. ' 30. A VISIT TO THE FORD PLANT A short while ago a few friends and I visited Henry Ford ' s new assembling plant in Som- erville, which had just been completed and was open to public inspection during the ac- tual working time of the plant. Since it opened, a few days ago, the factory has al- ready turned out more than thirty-five thou- sand cars. When we arrived at the plant, I was imme- diately aware of the fact that we were not the only ones seeking such beneficial knowledge, for as far as I could see were cars of people who were either in the building or waiting to get inside. At last, by dint of much pushing, we suc- ceeded in gaining the entrance of the factory, where we were given a card to sigu. Glancing over it I was rather shocked to find in one corner, Not responsible for injuries sus- tained by visitors during the inspection of this plant. Immediately there flashed be- fore my eyes visions of myself crushed and mutilated by a lowly Ford, being carried off to the waiting ambulance. However, in spite of my gruesome forebodings, I determined to run the risk. At last, after being glared at, puslicd, and trampled upon by half the city of Boston, I was taken in tow by a white- uniformed guide, in company with approxi- mately fifty other adventurers. The most notable trait of the guide was the bored air with which he regarded us. Our first visit was to the power house where we were free to examine the great turbines. Becoming rather confused by the eternal roar and bustle, I put out my hand to touch one of the great engines. Suddenly it was grasped from behind and jerked violently back. Turning around, I beheld the guide, still with his bored air. He drawled to me, Say, Bud, if you had touched that, you would never know what hit you. Whereupon, lie turned and strode off, leaving me gaping after him, per- haps the most surprised boy in the world at that moment. After recovering my composure, I joined the party in the main assembling room. At last I was to see the much-advertised moving belt on which the Fords are assembled in such a short time. It was just as astounding as it is pictured. As I approached the belt, a triangular piece of steel was placed on it. Within fifty feet this same piece of steel had already begun to take form, and within an- other fifty I could see that a Ford was being created before my eyes. Soon after, my sus- picions were definitely confirmed, for upon the application of a little gasoline, the familiar riivver rattle came forth from the rear end of the car. Next the body was put on, and there stood l)efore me a shining new Ford. Tlien, liurdened with much literature and rather fatigued, I left the great plant, still, much to my amazement, sound in every limb. FRANKLIN TUTTLE, ' 28. TRY AGAIN! He saw the motto long ago, ' Twas one of mauj ' in a row: Try again! He pondered o ' er it every hour. And found his thoughts so long grown sour Were sweetened by a magic poAver: Try again ! Golden words pierced black despair. And gave liim zeal and strength to dare Try again 1 20

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track. When they are released by the rais- ing of a door, an electrician starts the me- chanical hare and he is able to keep it just far enough ahead so that all the dogs may see it. This brings about the closely contested raeo which appeals to our people so greatly. The popularity of this form of racing is attested by the increasing demand for grey- hounds, which has been so great in the last twelve months, that they have had to be im- ported into this country from England, Ire- land nnd Scotland. MILDRED G. MOORE, ' 28. a shriek of despair, it stumbles off the bridge a nd plunges into the murky waters below — Weighed down with its precious burden. MILLEDGE GROUSE, ' 28. THE PROWLER Three o ' clock. Slowly and resonantly a bell tolls in a distant steeple. Rolls of heavy, grey fog are wafted in from the river down the narrow street, making the lamps glow like dull pearls. Sidewalks and streets are de- serted, and not a single glimmer of light shines in the massive, gloomy buildings tower- ing high on either side. Suddenly, a lone figure is perceptible skulk- ing across the bridge. It reaches the begin- ning of the street and disappears into a misty doorway. It reappears for an instant — then slinks into a dark alley. Lurking in obscure corners it makes its way along, stealthily creeping close to a large, impressive structure with windows covered by thick iron bars. Glancing furtively around, the figure draws toward the door. There is a muffled click a s of a lock being picked open, and the portal slides apart into a black slit through which the form hurriedly glides. Soft, soft footfalls move on a marble floor. Long, groping arms stretch in the pitchy dark. A deadened rasping of rough hands passes over a cold metal surface. A thin beam of light is thrown on a circular knob ! And a faint clucking sounds behind the metal- lic surface of a turning dial. There is a last faint knock as the iron posts move out of place, and a huge door swings slowly open. The figure nervously slips inside, and eagerly clutches at some small bags of coins — dropping them in its pockets, and securing them to its person. — Clong! Clang! Clong! — the burglar alarm! The figure has for- gotten about the device in its haste to obtain the metal pieces! But it must escape. Terror- stricken it turns and f lees from the building. Wildly it rushes down the street toward the bridge. It hears a clamor of shouts and whistles behind! — Faster and faster it goes. It is mad with fear. It cannot see— and with LES FLEURS AU PRINTEMPS Ah ! que je les aime, les belles fleurs, Surtout an frais printemps, Avec leurs couleuis si delicatcs, Et odeurs si odoriferantes. L ' eblounssement du coqueljicot. La pensee veloutee, La jonquille penchant dans les brises, Le trainant arbousier. .T ' aime la rose, la belle rose, La violette si petite, Le lilas blanc, la jaeinthe lavande, Et la confuse marguerite. Les abeilles et les oiseaux aussi Aiment au printemps les fleurs, Car ils apportent la joie aux enfants, Et le bonheur a tons les coeurs. RUTH GERSINOVITCH, ' 27. THE WILD APPLE TREE Oh! little wild apple-tree down by the brook. How came you to find so pleasant a nook? Hidden away from all the rest, Having for company, one little nest That a robin has built here year after year, Coming to you, with his heart full of cheer. Making you happy with many a note Ruljbling up from his little round throat. In the spring of the year, when the blossoms peep out. Yours are the loveliest, without a doubt. At last, when the robin says good-bye. You know that winter is drawing nigh ; But don ' t forget, old tree, so dear. That the rolnn is coming back next year. ROSE ASSENZA, ' 30. THE BROOK Slipping, tripping. Sliding, gliding. Flows the brook; Roaming, foaming. Flashing, splashing. In each nook ; Tumbling, rumbling. Pouring, roaring. On the way; Singing, swinging. Dancing, prancing. In its play. DORIS E. BAUER, ' 27. 19

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He battled on with all his might, Emerged a victor from the fight, By using mankind ' s blessed right to Try again ! BEETHA LINDSAY, ' 28. SMILE When everything ' s gone wrong with you And all your friends seem lost, When you need help the most, just like The ship that ' s tempest-tossed; When all day long you ' ve done things wronj And life itself you dread; Just stand right up with- hopes anew — With courage look ahead. Just smile a bit and tell yourself You won ' t give up tlie fight. And soon you ' ll have yourself convinced Things are to be all right. Whenever things go wrong with you, Ileniember that a smile Will help a lot to lirighten things, And make your life wortli while. EMILY WENGEN, ' 27. THE OLD FARM Two bent forms stood at the gate before a low, rambling farm house. The figures were those of a farmer and his wife who were say- ing a last farewell to the place which had been home to them for many years. It was hard, indeed, for them to say good-bye to the home to which they had come when first they had been married, and to the broad fields they had loved so well. There had been a time when the fruit and flowers had depended upon the care of the little old lady, and the grass and grain had been tended by the snowy-haired man. But now what a change had come ! Why, it seemed as if the little farm no longer needed them. One new invention after another had replaced the old methods. The old farmer was saying to his wife, The windmill i umps the water and churns the butter now. The sheep are sheared by motor and the horses are clipped in the same man- ner. Even the old hen ' s place is taken by the incubator. And the dear old lady answered, Yes, and the mail is left at the door by the delivery man so that you have no longer any excuse to linger in the village store and chat with your friends and neighbors. We telephone for our groceries, which are delivered by a truck in a very short time. Somebody has sold you a new device by which you may cook without a fire. We light the house and barn by electricity and there ' s even a machine to milk the cows. Do you remember, dear, how I used to can the berries every summer? The canning factory takes care of them now. The pleas- ure of mowing the hay is now but a fragrant memory, for there are machines to cut and load the hay and stow it away in the mow. With a last, lingering glance, the couple moved down the road reflecting on the by- gone days before the farm had become so smart tliat it laughed at the two old-fashioned owners and was able to run itself. FLOEENCE BOUDEEAU, ' 29. THE ORIGIN OF AIR-FIGHTING IN THE GREAT WAR About ten years before the Great War, a French inventor and a German aviator were working together to perfect the airplane. When they w-ere beginning to reach their goal, after many years of study and toil, the Great War came, the war that shattered the hopes, not only of individuals, but also of the world ' s most powerful nations. Immediately both aviators gave their serv- . ices and planes to their respective countries. The two friends became scouts, flying above the enemy ' s lines to bring back information as to their position, supplies, reinforcements, etc. Every day the Frenchman and the Ger- man would salute each other in passing, while below, the great conflict was being waged. One day the German aviator was unable to fly over to the French lines, therefore another scout took his plane. When the two scouts. met, the Frenchman raised his hand in the customary salute. The other, misunderstand- ing the motion, fired at him. This was the- Ijeginning of fighting in the air. From that time on, one or the other would devise a better way to fire, until it became a case of hatred among the clouds as well as on the ground. When the first German scout was able to fly, h e was greatly grieved and incensed that his friend answered his salute with a shot from a gun which was attached to the side of the plane by an awkward con- trivance. Day by day, the air-gun was im- proved until the regular machine gun, which is now used, was developed. Thus two friends were estranged and, through their estrange- ment, the air battles of the Great War were begun. ELEANOE GLEASON, ' 28. 21